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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24505891">Minor Mendings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidiansChild/pseuds/ObsidiansChild'>ObsidiansChild</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Reformation of Eliot Waugh [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magicians (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:28:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24505891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidiansChild/pseuds/ObsidiansChild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot and Quentin deal with Eliot graduating Brakebills.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alice Quinn/Original Male Character(s), Kady Orloff-Diaz/Julia Wicker, Margo Hanson/Josh Hoberman, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Reformation of Eliot Waugh [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Minor Mendings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There were really no tags for this. There's a little plot, and then there's smut. That's it, really. </p><p>This one-shot takes place a couple of weeks after Eliot graduates from Brakebills, which would be about three months after the previous installment of the series.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Eliot</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot stepped through the portal in their bedroom (Quentin’s bedroom now), and into the living room of his new apartment, the last of his belongings held in his hands, which was just his phone and cigarettes. He’d spent the morning walking his things through with Quentin, which hadn’t taken long. The apartment Wicke had found for him was fully furnished, small but stylish, even if it was a little too committed to a monochrome aesthetic. Two of his living room walls were glass that led out to a concrete balcony. It was all very sleek and modern, and not at all to his tastes. But the first three months’ rent had been included in the signing bonus of his internship, and he would have been a fool to pass it up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d felt fragile since he’d started removing his things from the cottage bedroom, leaving empty spaces in their place, erasing his presence from the only safe place he’d ever really known. It hadn’t helped so far to fill this new place with those things; it still seemed so alien, devoid of all the things that had made the Physical Kids cottage home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot had never lived alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was also the matter of Quentin, and he felt incredibly foolish for even entertaining the thought that this would change things between them. Quentin planned to spend the entire summer with him, and the portal they’d erected would remain, allowing easy access from his new home to the cottage bedroom. He wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> be alone...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, Eliot felt adrift as he looked around the bright living room with its picturesque view of the Manhattan skyline. He hurried to rest his phone and cigarettes on the white lacquered end table, turning when he heard Quentin step into the room with his messenger bag over his shoulder, closing the portal behind him. He looked a little anxious now that there was nothing left to do, but when his eyes met Eliot’s he smiled, tossing his bag onto one of the gray accent chairs before crossing the floor to embrace him loosely, looking up into his eyes. “Big change, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As always, Quentin could see right through him. “I mean… it shouldn’t be. Right?” He shook his head, as if he could shake off his anxiety with the motion. “It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“El.” Quentin worked his hands underneath Eliot’s shirt, resting his palms on the small of his back. “It’s okay to be freaked out. New place, new job.” He looked around. “Terrible furniture.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Eliot chuckled. “I may have to go temporarily bohemian and cover everything with scarves until I can replace it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gross, no. I don’t want to spend all my time in a place that reminds me of Penny.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, give the man a break, Q. He’s practically running Henry’s little foundation by himself these days, tracking all those poor souls down. He’s vying for sainthood at this point.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s nice,” Quentin agreed grouchily. “To other people. But anyway, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>point </span>
  </em>
  <span>was you’re freaking out, and you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>me you’re freaking out.” He tilted his chin to press a kiss against Eliot’s. “I’m a little freaked, too. It’ll pass.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Eliot rested his chin against Quentin’s forehead, looking around the living room and kitchen. “What do we do now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Do you still feel up for guests tonight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot smiled. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend all night with your nose in a book?” Quentin had developed a new obsession over the past couple of months, one that had led to Fogg convincing him to start his third year thesis work early. Lipson had jumped on board as well with one of her own Healing students (an absolute stick in the mud woman named Caroline), and it had quickly snowballed into a huge undertaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quentin had been gifted with a mentor without even having to schmooze for one; a brusque older woman named Grace Malcomb. She was a highly skilled surgeon who hadn’t taken on a student in several years. Eliot had never heard of a cooperative thesis, but with Quentin’s discipline of minor mending, and Caroline’s skill in micro healing, they were hoping to create a way to attach prosthetics for amputees that could eventually be made to adapt to the body as a working appendage. The idea blew Eliot’s mind, and while he was exceedingly proud of Quentin for pursuing it, he honestly wondered how much he’d see of the man in the next year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I can take a night off,” Quentin told him. “Did you text Margo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but she wants to bring Josh. I’m not sure how well that’s going to go over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quentin shrugged. “Joey and Alice are solid; they can handle it. Julia said she can come, but Kady can’t make it. She’s actually meeting with Penny tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and how does Hoolia feel about that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quentin snorted softly at the nickname Eliot had adopted for the woman since their D&amp;D game. “She’s fine. Penny asked for her help in trying to reach out to some of the more suspicious hedges. All totally innocent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But have they even really talked since Julia and Kady got back together?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not that I’m aware of, but Jules seemed fine with it. I don't think Penny would bring it up for discussion. He made it pretty clear he wasn’t cool with things back then, so there’s probably not a point in anyone bringing it up now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“True. How we’ve all grown,” he sighed theatrically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Quentin laughed. “So, did you invite Todd?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot sighed. “Yes. He’s in Bali. With a woman, apparently. Can’t make it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I appreciate your effort anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia, Joey, and Alice arrived first that evening, stepping through the portal with pilfered alcohol from the cottage bar, most of it Eliot’s own, though he wasn’t rude enough to point it out. Quentin had ordered food to be delivered, and there was an array of Italian dishes set out on the kitchen counter in aluminum trays, along with bread and grated parmesan. Eliot had spent the previous week shopping for items he’d either never owned or had lost track of at Brakebills, including silverware and dishes, and he hoped he had enough to serve everyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia stepped towards the window, taking in the view with a smile. “Impressive, Waugh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged casually. “It’ll do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then Margo was at the door, her own apartment just a short distance over the Bridge, and behind her was Hoberman. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here we fucking go, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eliot thought, plastering a smile on his face as he embraced his best friend. “You look lovely,” he purred, taking the bottle of pinot noir from her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he released her, he saw her eyes widen slightly, obviously seeing Joey and Alice cuddled up in one of the chairs together. But she rebounded quickly, giving him a no nonsense look. “Enough of that, let’s get a look at this place.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot allowed Margo to step around him, nodding a greeting towards Josh as he shut the door behind them. Joey didn’t even react to Margo’s presence, and Alice only spared her a quick, nervous glance before returning her attention to her boyfriend, who was obviously spinning some wild tale for Quentin, full of hand gestures and wide eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margo looked around the open space of the kitchen and living room with an assessing eye, crossing her arms under her breasts. “I’m not hating the foundation you’ve got to work with here,” she mused. “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>the furniture has to go.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot smirked, setting the wine with the other bottles on the counter. “Agreed. Did you bring this because you planned to drink it?” he asked, holding up an empty wine glass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She waved a hand. “In a minute, I’m busy. Give me the tour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suppressing an eye roll, Eliot escorted Margo off to the side of the kitchen, pushing open the bathroom door and switching on the light. “Oh, the tile is </span>
  <em>
    <span>good,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she remarked, looking over the matte white squares, bordered with black grout. “I’d change the light fixture, though. Maybe install a bigger mirror?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bambi, I know what you’re doing, and my apartment isn’t big enough for you to avoid them all night,” he told her. “Besides, you know I’m better at designing a space than you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margo shot him a wounded glare for calling her out. “I don’t know what to say to them, El,” she admitted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot glanced towards the living room. “Well, your boyfriend’s already making nice, so why don’t you just follow his lead?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Margo moved closer to him, peeking out of the bathroom to find Josh, who was standing before Joey and Alice, offering pastries from a covered tray he’d brought with him. Eliot could see Joey smiling easily at the man as he chose one, and Alice took one as well, though he couldn’t see if she was as relaxed as her boyfriend appeared to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Margo huffed. But she left Eliot’s side without a backwards glance, choosing to take a seat on the sofa between Julia and Quentin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot returned to the living room after her, taking the free chair next to the one Joey and Alice were sharing and lighting a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, when do you start work?” Julia asked, catching his eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, Monday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot shrugged. “Wicke keeps a tight schedule. I’m lucky I didn’t start the day after graduation. What will you be doing with your summer, Hoolia?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “Um, I actually think I’m going to be helping Q and Caroline. They’re not super far into their research yet, but I’ve taken a look at some of their ideas. If it pans out, the spells would need to be written for each patient individually. Not a full rework, just some adjustments. I think maybe weaving in something with muscle memory could be a possibility, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re joining their thesis project?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure yet; I don’t know if it would really demand enough of me to take it that far? But maybe.” Josh placed the tray of pastries on the coffee table and she quickly snatched one up that looked like some kind of iced croissant. “It’s meaningful work, at least. I’d like to be involved.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Understandable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone eventually wandered into the kitchen one or two at a time to fill plates with pasta and settle around the coffee table again to eat. The conversation centered around their last few weeks at Brakebills for a bit, but as the alcohol flowed they eventually moved onto other topics. Josh talked about his work at the dispensary that had hired him after graduation due to his skill in creating edibles, and how he was learning everything he needed to open his own place eventually that would cater to magicians on the side. Margo interrupted to inform everyone he was being modest, and that his creations were drawing all kinds of attention from very important people in the cannabis industry. Josh blushed under the praise, shrugging it off but looking pleased. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice shyly announced that Joey had joined a band on campus and they were going to be practicing over the summer. Margo had just started at Fuzzbeat, and was already drawing attention from her boss with her cryomancy spells. Quentin and Julia talked about their own studies a bit, and Quentin and Joey voiced their concerns on what the cottage would be like without Margo and Eliot to keep things running smoothly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They talked about movies they’d seen recently, television shows they’d binged, Brangelina’s custody drama (which everyone surprisingly had an opinion about except Quentin, who only looked confused), and Eliot was very pleasantly drunk by the time he noticed Margo and Alice were missing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trying to appear very casual, he glanced towards the kitchen. It was empty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If they’re in my goddamn bedroom, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought with widening eyes, not really believing it but still a little unsure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then he glimpsed a flash of Margo’s yellow dress, and looked out towards the balcony. The women were leaned against the concrete wall, side by side, neither looking comfortable but obviously talking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Glancing towards Joey to see if he’d noticed this development, the dark-haired man only smiled a little sadly. “Needed to happen,” he said quietly, not wanting to draw attention from the conversation still happening around them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And maybe he was right, because eventually Eliot saw Alice and Margo embrace tightly, Margo laughing as they stepped apart. Another wound in their lives, healed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was nearly sober again by the time everyone said their good-byes and left for the night, and as he helped Quentin clean up the empty trays and load the dishwasher, the atmosphere of the apartment felt… better. Not like home, not yet, but less foreign and strange. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, there was nothing left to do but go to the bedroom, and Eliot turned to give Quentin a flirtatious grin. “Wanna break in the new bed with something kinky?” he suggested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Quentin shook his head, his smile soft as he closed the distance between them, leaning up to kiss Eliot on the corner of his mouth. “No. Just let me have you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Eliot always had to force himself not to blush when Quentin asked. Because he never asked “can I fuck you?” or “will you bottom?” And his way of asking just felt so much more intimate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Eliot whispered, tilting his chin to let Quentin capture his lips. He kissed Eliot tenderly but very thoroughly as he removed their clothes a piece at a time, finally pushing Eliot gently down onto the bed and following him to straddle his hips, grinding against his belly as his hand tangled in Eliot’s hair, his mouth hungry against his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quentin’s kisses remained slow and tortuous, until he moved them both to recline against the mattress, lifting himself away on one arm. “On your stomach?” he asked. “I wanna eat you out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot hurried to comply with already quickening breaths, helping Quentin move him into the position he wanted until he was spread on his knees and Quentin’s tongue was lapping and circling his asshole, drawing desperate moans from Eliot’s lips as Quentin also worked his cock with his skilled hand. Eliot cried out when Quentin began to open him with his fingers, and hummed when his cock finally filled him. His thrusts were insistent, but Quentin’s hands were gentle, reverent, as they roamed over the curve of his back and his hips, down his thighs. It wasn’t that Quentin couldn’t be rough; he definitely could. But something always gave away his more tender nature, even if it was only his eyes. Eliot reveled in the soft touch of his fingers that brought up goosebumps in their wake, the perfect contrast to Quentin filling him so perfectly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, baby?” Quentin asked when Eliot went quiet, lost in sensation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, Q. No worries. You’re perfect, baby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Thought I lost you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only in good ways,” he chuckled, reaching a hand back to rest against his spine, smiling when Quentin curled his fingers around it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before Quentin’s thrusts grew greedier, deeper, and Eliot’s hitching breaths filled the bedroom. “Oh Q, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please. God. Fuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you,” he promised, holding onto Eliot’s hips and driving his cock in, twisting his hips in that perfect way as he also started to jack Eliot off again, this time with intent. Eliot couldn’t form words at this point, only short whines escaping him as his face moved rhythmically against the sheets, his thighs trembling until the world voided out and he came with a cry, barely stopping himself from collapsing to the mattress, realizing Quentin was still pounding into him, chasing his own release. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon baby,” Eliot pleaded, because it never failed. Quentin rarely talked in bed, but he seemed to need Eliot to. “C’mon Q, come for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Eliot.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sweetheart. I want you to come, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was all it took, that little whine at the end of his request, and Quentin was spilling into him, gasping and clenching at Eliot’s hips. Eliot sighed with satisfaction, holding himself still until Quentin came back to himself and pulled out, curling around Eliot and pulling him close to spoon himself around his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good?” he asked quietly. He always asked after he fucked him, and Eliot found the notion that Quentin thought he could be bad at sex ridiculous by now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. Why are you so good to me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliot smiled as he felt Quentin’s lips behind his ear, and he reached behind him to caress Quentin’s hip, feeling so much more at home. “Love you, Q.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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